Touch
by dinosaysRAWRrawr
Summary: Some more shameless fluff. Zombie boy and Hanna end up talking about some deep things late at night. K  for swearing.


Yeah okay so. This is the most sappy fluff in the world in my opinion. No seriously, it's shameless how gay and sweet this shit is. My mind naturally wants to write dark and disturbing things that really exploit the dark sides of the characters, so before I go back to that comfort zone, I need to practice fluff in order to learn to balance it so I don't scare and depress everyone with my writing. So I consider this an exercise in gay 8D. I apologize in advance for any typos or grammatical errors. I have been writing this for an hour now, and it's currently 6:30 in the morning and I haven't slept. Riding on the remnants of my energy drink, I decided to whip this out and post it before it rots on my hard drive to be forgotten forever. I'll spellcheck it and resubmit it tomorrow once I've had some sleep.

Yes. This is light {…}/Hanna, regarding how everyone has their insecurities.

As always, these lovelies belong to the wonderful and kind Tessa Stone.

n-n-n-n-n

For the some odd months that the zombie had lived in his apartment, Hanna had grown to find that his odd curiosity about his new roommate was turning a bit less… Platonic. Of course he had a lot of questions since day one, most that could not be answered due to the other's lack of memory. But more than anything else, his questions had far strayed from things that could be answered with only words. The question that had been running through his head so incessantly over the past few weeks had been a simple one, with a simple answer:

What does he feel like?

Sure, he had made physical contact with the zombie on multiple occasions, but was usually in and out of consciousness. Even the times he was awake and simply helped up, rather than held, he always wore those gloves. And it wasn't like Hanna was just going to walk up to him, take them off and start holding his hand. There were _boundaries_ he was sure.

Okay, so he had so totally had a restraining order against him in the past, and the concept of personal space never meant much to him, but with his nameless friend, it was…_different_. Maybe it was because they were both men. He really wasn't sure. The only experience he had had with guys in a less than friendly way took place when he was drunk at a bar and chose to _hit_ on one. Embarrassing, really, but after recalling that event the next day when he was sober, he realized that he was, in fact, completely fine with it. But that didn't change that he wondered if _he_ would be okay with it.

So he ignored the nearly literal itchiness in his fingers, and kept to himself, trying to simply _decide_ what he felt like instead. But still, was he still soft? It wasn't like he had an odor of rotting or anything, either. No, it was more so a smell of—

"Hanna?" the voice interrupted his thoughts, dragging him from the depths of his mind to the reality he had forgotten about with embarrassment, causing him to straighten up in his seat, a soft red hue already beginning to form on his cheeks.

"H-huh?"

"Are you okay?" they were both sitting together at the kitchen table, the zombie having most likely just joined him, and it appeared as though he had just drifted off mid bite, the fork still in his mouth. How long he had been zoned out for, he didn't know, but he felt guilty thinking about things like that in _front_ of the other for Chrissake. His undead companion was looking at him a bit worriedly before he quirked his head slightly, sure a smile was in his eyes, though it didn't really reach his lips.

"Y-yeah! I'm fine. Sorry, just sorta spaced out I guess." He laughed nervously before returning to eating, a soft hum of happiness coming from the back of his throat. He really did love the guy. He had gotten home from work (and now that he thought about it, he was still in his uniform too) and was presented with an overloaded double backed potato that was positively _huge_ and _awesome_, for dinner. He was elated that at least one of them knew how to cook, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and touched by the fact that there was someone in his life who cared enough not only to make sure he was fed, but that he cooked foods he really liked.

Though he filled the silence as he ate with chatter as per usual, he still was intensely distracted, and hoped the other wouldn't really notice. Of course, that was far too much to ask, because, as the undead man took away his plate to clean it, he took a moment to bend down and search his eyes with his own glowing ones, a small frown upon his lips. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Totally, man! It's all good." He laughed again, though, judging by the zombie's face as he pulled back and walked away, he didn't quite believe him. Hanna remained at the table, fiddling nervously at the hem of his shirt as he stole glances in the direction of the tiny kitchen, watching as he washed the singular dish. He really wished they could eat _together_ one day, but he didn't know if that would ever be possible.

Feeling oddly guilty about everything, he had placed his head down upon the table, only being brought back to the present when he felt a gentle touch to his hair. Lifting his head, he looked curiously at the other, raising a brow with a small smile. "What's up, Tommy?" he asked, head tilting slightly as he couldn't help but acknowledge the fact that such a sweet touch had managed to give him butterflies.

"Sit up." Was the simple reply, his voice deep and smooth, commanding but so, so very _kind_. The redhead, needless to say, did what he was told, and sat up straight in the chair, turning to the side to look at him, watching with curiosity as he took off his gloves one by one and set them down, revealing two large and smooth looking hands, with perfect little fingernails, and just a few cute little stitches. They were _really_ nice hands, in Hanna's opinion.

However, before he could really realize what the point of it all was, one of the zombie's hands was smoothing over his forehead, pushing his stray hair back, while the other hand slipped behind to press against the back of his neck. Large blue eyes staring dazedly up at the other, he tried his best to comprehend the feel of his touch without truly being able to touch him as well. The skin was smooth, and maybe a bit dry, but still very oddly soft. Being so close to him, he lowered his gaze to his chest, and maybe scooted forward a bit, smelling that earthy scent. Musky and subtle, like he had spent a day out in the woods and became one with nature, minus the sweat smell or something like that.

"Hmmm… Nothing." Was the final verdict, and, before Hanna was ready to stop the contact, the zombie removed his hands and quickly replaced the gloves before returning to his seat. "But, maybe you should lie down, Hanna. You look tired."

Nibbling at his bottom lip, Hanna nodded and did his best to withhold the sigh fighting to escape him as he slowly stood and awkwardly remained there, fussing over the hem of his shirt once more. "Uh… You, uhm. You gonna come with?" he finally asked a bit shyly, looking down and to the side, sure his light freckles were vanishing beneath red. It wasn't even so much about the growing fondness he had for the other male, but more so about the comfort his presence brought. He had spent so many years alone that in the short amount of time he was fortunate enough to have a roommate such as he, he had grown comfortable with his company. The soft glow of his eyes acting as a nightlight of sorts, a warm reminder that he was not alone, something to chase away the heaviness in his heart, and any bad dream that may plague his sleep.

"Yes, of course." He replied, slowly gathering himself from his seat before pushing it in and leading the way to the bedroom. Hanna followed obediently after him, scooping up a shirt from about his floor before escaping into his bathroom. He brushed his teeth and considered giving his hair a good brush but thought better of it, deciding instead to get changed. He always kept his back to the mirror when dressing or undressing. He couldn't stand the sight of his chest, and would rather not have to be faced with it every day. It was an insecurity of sorts.

Once his work shirt was set aside for his night shirt, and his pants were removed to leave him in his boxers, he slipped back into his room, grinning at the sight of his companion in his usual spot by the foot of the bed, book in hand.

Submitting to the fact that he was more tired than he had initially thought, he stretched with a yawn before shutting off the light and kneeling down, crawling onto his mattress, curling up underneath the messy covers with his face burrowed into the pillow. He supposed he was always a bit of a cuddler at heart, always clinging to the soft blankets and pillows about him in his sleep. Once his form settled, he heard that soft and soothing voice once more through the dark, bidding him a, "Goodnight Hanna, sweet dreams."

He never really realized how amazingly awesome it was to be told goodnight when he slept, and good morning when he awoke.

"Night, Dave." Was the sleepy and friendly reply, as it always was, warm and low, a new name every time. However, when he closed his eyes, he felt more awake than he had been before, suddenly feeling completely unable to sleep with his mind so abruptly crippled with worrisome thoughts. Maybe he was really beginning to go crazy. He needed to do _something_ to get his mind off of the impossibly attractive undead individual currently in _his bedroom_, you know, near his _bed_.

Swiftly sitting up, he immediately gained the attention of the other, whose eyes were now on him. Though Hanna could hardly make out the figure without his glasses, he could see that orange light turn his way before he was met with a questioning sound.

"Uh… You know, I was kinda thinking. Aren't you uncomfortable sitting there on the floor like that all the time? I mean… It can't be that great." He decided to voice his concern, wanting to go on when he was interrupted by a thoughtful sound.

"Hmm. I don't suppose I really paid any mind. Though, I do get out and stretch a bit, once you're asleep."

Hanna didn't know if he liked, or disliked that response. The fact that he would at least stay until he knew he was safe and sound in his dreamland was sweet in itself, but he couldn't help but feel the selfish and horrible sinking feeling in his stomach to know that he didn't accompany him all night. He almost felt… Childish, and burdensome that he would have to feel the need to watch over him. Of course he would get out when he could, right? The redhead looked down at his hands in his lap, nodding slowly as he thought. Well, even if he couldn't quite be perfect, he at least could attempt to remedy the situation at hand.

Turning where he sat, he observed his pillows before grabbing one and scooting to the edge of the bed, extending it out to him. "Here. Now you can at least sit on it, or support your back or something." He smiled genuinely, leaning forward despite himself so that he could make out his face more clearly.

"….Hanna, you don't need to do that."

"Dude, I have another. It's totally cool, promise." Though the zombie turned his head away at this, he could see he was smiling faintly. After a few moments of debate, he accepted the pillow and placed it behind himself as he leaned back against the wall. "…Thank you."

"Man, anytime, really." He chuckled before sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, deciding sleep could wait. "What are you reading?" he finally asked, trying to fill the silence.

"Hmm… A mystery novel. I'm not very far." He explained before marking the page and holding it up, having noticed Hanna's hand extending as if to ask for it. The redhead took the book before holding it close to his nose, looking over the front, and then the back. "Oh! I've read this. It's so totally awesome like _whoa_, man. Seriously, it really fucks with your mind, and the ending just kills you." He explained excitedly before setting it down in his lap. Though the zombie was smiling amusedly at him, he noticed he was looking about before leaning down.

"You're killing me with all these smiles today. I might have actually lost count." Hanna said happily, watching as the other male sat back up before extending his hands towards his face. Needless to say, Hanna grew embarrassed at the closeness before he felt a familiar weight on the bridge of his nose and –Oh.

"Squinting's bad for you." The zombie mused before leaning back against the pillow.

"Damn you are just… Way too sweet to me." Hanna said before he could really catch himself, leaving himself to bite at his bottom lip and look away shyly, feeling like a complete tool for having said something like that. Really, he could just die right about then. When he finally regained the balls to look at him, his large blue eyes shifted over, watching as the zombie tilted his head slightly, looking a bit… Sad. Jesus Christ, he'd never hated anything more in his life—Seeing him so sad.

"Are you—"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"But, you look…"

"Hmm."

Hanna couldn't help but frown, eyes searching his as he tried to understand what had caused him to make such an expression. Of course, he could only blame himself, feeling like a complete idiot for opening his big mouth and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time yet _again_.

"Sorry… I shouldn't have said that. It's my fault, and it was totally lame. Just gonna… Go sleep now… Yeah" He said dejectedly as he shrunk back, heading back to the safety of his blankets so he could at least feel the false security of vanishing from his eyesight.

"No, no, Hanna." He shifted forward where he sat, placing his hand upon the mattress as if to beckon the other back, that same sad expression still present, but now laden with concern. "You didn't say anything wrong."

"But… Then why did you look so upset?"

"Because… It's… It's convoluted and stupid."

Hanna was genuinely surprised to hear him say such a thing. He had always been so strong and sure when it came to dire situations, or even in everyday conversations. Though it hurt Hanna to see him so insecure, he couldn't help but note that he was becoming more emotional day by day, regaining who he is as a _person_ and not a zombie, beginning to grasp all aspects of the pleasures of living.

"Okay, bullshit. I call some hardcore bullshit." Hanna frowned before returning to him, sitting on the edge of the bed once more (noting mentally that though the zombie retracted his hand, he still sat close to him). "You can tell me anything, seriously. I think you hear enough of my shit to know that I say a lot of stupid things." The redhead raised a brow, giving him a rather amusing expression in hopes of raising his spirits. Though the other shook his head in denial of such a statement, the smile had returned (which made Hanna feel so good, _sosogood_).

"Okay, well… Hmm. I don't like that you say I am sweet. Just because I make you food, or give you your glasses…"

"I… I don't understand."

"Well… It upsets me that you find such simple gestures sweet. It reminds me how negatively you feel about yourself, and how negatively other people have treated you. I don't want you to have to feel that way. I don't… Like it."

"H-hey man… It's okay I mean… Really. It makes me _happy_ you do those things for me. I don't really think it matters anymore, what's happened to me. I don't think it _matters_ how I was before you showed up. What matters is… You're really kind, and that makes me feel really good. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel wanted. It makes me wish I could give you more in return. I feel like a total dick I can't cook for you, or figure out faster who you are. But that's what matters to me." Hanna explained with a sound nod, feeling really out of place talking so openly about his feelings. He tended to keep things to himself with fierce commitment when it came to such things, but, he felt as though he owed it to him. That and his need to console him went far beyond his pride to keep it to himself. It was far more important.

"You give me back so much. I feel as though I owe you."

Well now that blew Hanna's mind. That just didn't make _sense_. He was practically scrambling day in and day out to come up with ways to repay him for all he had done, so it really didn't equate in his mind how he would be the one who was owed.

"That… Makes absolutely no sense. You lost me."

"You always try to include me in on everything. You tell me everything that's on your mind. You entertain me. You give me a place to stay. You give me friendship. You give me care. You encourage me. You enthuse me. You give me reason to smile. You're always trying to excite me and make sure I'm happy. You don't run away screaming, or scowl at how I look. That's more than I could ever ask for, more than I have ever received in the past ten years I can remember. You treat me like a person. You give me hope there is a reason I am still here. You remind me I _am_ human. That I got a second chance at living for a _reason_. You just being _you_ reminds me to never give up."

"….Well… Shit." Hanna said rather breathlessly, sinking down slightly where he sat, resting his elbows on his knees. He really had never had such an open conversation, or been told in one go so many positive things about himself. At least, not in a very long time. It was mind boggling. It made his heart race. He felt a little lost but more than ever _damn_, he just wanted to hug him, tell him how much it meant to him. He mattered to him. He gave him hope. He reminded him of _meaning_ in life. Those were some heavy things, and he couldn't believe that, through all of his fuck ups, and all of the worry he put him through, he had managed to accomplish such things without ever trying.

"Just be you Hanna. That's what makes me happiest. If I hadn't met you, who knows what I would be doing right now… You're all I have."

"Shit, bro, seriously… I like… I can't even." Hanna murmured in response, gaze shying away. He was only brought back to reality by the comforting hand upon his shoulder, squeezing gently. And when he looked back up, suddenly he was so close, so damn _close_ and it made him nervous. Breathless, struggling, dazed and confused. Without really meaning to, he leaned forward a bit, his unruly hair shifting as it grazed the zombie's shoulder.

Closer… Closer, just a little closer. Quite slowly, with every second ticking by like minutes, he tested the waters, closing the gap between them centimeter by centimeter, holding his breath without meaning to. It just didn't feel… _Bro_ like. More intimate, to rest his head upon his shoulder, but Christ, he couldn't help himself. Not this time. His mouth was dry, swallowing thickly as he tried to eliminate the lump in his throat. The moment was so intense he could hardly stand it, only capable of hearing his heart pounding in his ears with anticipation, anticipation, nervousness, _anticipation_.

But before he felt he was going to go crazy from dwelling on the fact that he was actually _making a move_ of sorts, he made contact. His forehead was so very lightly pressed to the side of his collar, slightly shifting the orange shirt he had grown fond of over his skin. For a moment, everything seemed very still. He probably looked like a total idiot, in retrospect, inching forward so slowly like that, but the other didn't seem to mind. In fact, after a moment of deliberating if he should pull back and just run far, _far_ away, he felt the zombie's hand shift from his shoulder to the back of his neck, pressing him closer, willing him to comfortably rest his weight against him rather than nervously sitting rigid.

And that one, comforting move, seemed to be all Hanna needed to just let the pieces fall into place. Scooting off of the bed and onto the floor, he leaned closer, turning his head to the side whilst raising his arms to loosely wrap around his shoulders, softly hugging him. And _fucking hell_, it felt _awesome_. "You're all I have too, you know."

"…Then we have each other, Hanna." And then arms were around the redhead in return, and Hanna was sure he was just about ready to _sob_ at how wonderful it was to be held and to hold. He was sure the last time he could remember such a moment was when his parents were still alive, and he had lived so damn long without physical contact of this kind, he had long forgotten how amazing it could be.

With newfound courage, his grip on the zombie grew tighter, the hug more confident and firm, affectionate and _warm_. Without really thinking, or wanting to break the contact, the redhead finally sought to do what he had wanted to for _so damn long_. Carefully, he grabbed at one of the other's arms that were still so sweetly about him, and pulled it between them, fingers gripping at the edge of the zombie's glove, beginning to remove it.

"Hanna… Please don't."

This surprised the redhead quite a bit, and immediately took away the courage he had just gained. "Wh-what? Why?"

"… I don't like my hands."

Hanna scrunched his nose at this and raised a skeptical brow. "Why…?"

"Stitches."

The redhead gazed at him sadly for a moment before firmly shaking his head and returning to his previous task, removing each glove one at a time before setting them aside. Lifting one of the zombie's hands closer to his face, he examined each little stitch with a small smile before Hanna took one of his hands into both of his own, gently running his thumbs in soothing circles, feeling the smoothness of his skin. "I like them."

And he felt like everything Hanna had imagined he would – Amazing. Smooth. Oddly soft.

"…You do?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

A shrug.

And with that, Hanna lifted his hand closer, kissing one particular set of stitches near a knuckle on his index finger. "We all have our scars."

"… Yeah. We do." And that was the most gorgeous, large, and brilliant smile Hanna had ever seen him make to date. And it left him idiotically fawning, earning a slight chuckle from the zombie, which subsequently made him even more excited than before.

Needless to say, he didn't fall asleep until late that night.

And Hanna noted with glee that his nameless companion didn't stop holding his hand until he did.


End file.
